No Longer Your Errand Girl
ded I needed a "makeover." It
. It's depressing to have her arou
re women whispered about their latest European acquisitio
ir, a knot of dr
list, making suggestions, her vo
ve it some life?" she said, picking up a bottle
I could protest, Tiffany was slatheri
burn almost
n his preferred companion, had decided my naturally curly hair was "untidy." She'd ins
out. Julian had found it amusing. "A bit of an overr
ed. "It stings," I managed
scrolling on his phon
ffany's just trying to he
dam, that's a professional-grade relaxer for v
ce. "Oh, dear! Was it t
sive hand. "It's fine
e to me next, a strange, soft murmur. "See
fire on my scalp, that I flinched away wh
was instincti
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=46b8ac4ba2161e0b69a9b73304ac43c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/77278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e33b5a48fd64490b6c3dab31c8798b9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/78800/coverorgin.jpg?v=767bbf56f1262f093e5e6fb728879971&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/97057/coverorgin.jpg?v=2d27dd8693a7f5862bd6c3800fc73a6a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/74164/coverorgin.jpg?v=2816c470b06ac6b360aeec47a19d5139&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85678/coverorgin.jpg?v=6a207a63cd0a42212d96a5e751493e4f&imageMogr2/format/webp)